Azure
by supervilliangirl
Summary: Loki, apparently, is a part-time smurf. In which Tony kind-of-sort-of-not-really finds out about Loki's heritage. Frostiron


Title: Azure

Fandom: Avengers

Character(s): Loki/Tony Stark

Summary: Loki, apparently, is a part-time smurf. In which Tony kind-of-sort-of finds out about Loki's heritage.

Author's Note(s): Because I love Jotun!Loki. And I didn't want to write anything too long. Enjoy some Frostiron fluff…kind of. They're already in an established relationship, although Loki is still against the Avengers and stuff. Post-movie.

-0-0-0-

The first time that he sees Loki in his Jotun form he is laying in his bed, half asleep. He's almost, just _almost_ dead to the world when he hears a thump, followed by cursing in some sort of Nordic tongue, and in a voice that by now he knows well. It's a common occurrence that the God of Mischief-and previous enemy number one of the Avengers (although by now he might have been downgraded to criminal number 3 or so) appears without warning in his bedroom, so he finds that he has no reason to panic and only blearily half opens his eyes.

Loki is obviously exhausted, although he's pacing around the room and clearly agitated. Pacing is something that Tony has learned that he is prone to do, so that in of itself doesn't bother him. His long, usually long-strides seem somewhat stilted, and he seems to be stumbling a bit. The god keeps snapping for some reason, for what purpose, the millionaire has no clue. His eyes don't appear as sharp as they usually do, although that could just be Tony being unaccustomed to seeing them _the freaking color red. _

After he blinks a few times, he realizes what is so different about Loki-_he looks like a fucking smurf. _And he isn't dreaming this shit up, either.

Apparently, he says this out loud, because Loki snaps his head around, pinning the human with a slightly glazed looking stare. It's unsettling, to tell the truth, how disoriented his sometimes lover, sometimes enemy looks.

"_What, _pray tell, _is a smurf?" _Loki all but hisses, stopping his crazed shuffling of feet across his carpet to focus all of his attention on the mortal lounging on the bed. Usually, Tony finds that hot, the way that Loki can totally zoom into something until it's the only thing that he notices. Now, Tony considers walking out of the room. He's blundered, and he knows it. Apparently, he wasn't supposed to mention the sudden change in skin color, although how could he not?

"You know, blue things, Papa Smurf, live in mushrooms?"

"…I would not say that I do." A frown mars the livid anger that had been playing across his features as of a few minutes ago, which is a slight improvement from the look that he had been wearing, which had resembled that of a serial killer.

"So, what's up? You some sort of mood ring or something?" He probably should have tiptoed around that one a little bit more, but he never is delicate about things. Tony is a person who is a firm believer in that it's better to tear the band aid off quickly, although it stings like a bitch.

The immortal's face quirks into something much like a snarl, and his eyes narrow. It makes the patterns across his skin ripple, and Tony finds it undeniably attractive. It's _gorgeous_, the play of blue skin across his taught frame. No, he's defiantly not asleep anymore, and his mind races. He wants to lick him, follow the whorls and swirls of the designs and never let him leave the bed- "I am a Jotun, if you must know, _Stark_."

And ouch, that one hurt. He hasn't been called Stark in _months._ The lust-filled direction that his brain had previously been going in stops, slightly stung by the cold tone. This must have been a bigger nerve than he thought. Oh joy.

But since he was never one to back down, he answered in a measured tone. "And what, _pray tell_, is that?" Yeah, he isn't above being just that petty.

Loki sways on his feet, and almost falls over. He quickly reaches out a hand onto the nearby desk to steady himself, and Tony knows better than not to mention it. Sure, he'll push, but he still wants answers at the moment, so being a complete ass is out of the question.

"A frost giant, the most hated adversary of the Æsir." This is spluttered out so fast that Tony has to strain to decode the jumbled mess of a sentence. It sounds recited, stiff, as if he's repeating someone he's heard from long ago, or a text that he had been forced the read multiple times.

Tony is not completely clueless as to what the Jotun are. One of the many times that he has bugged Thor for information about the nine realms, they had been mentioned, once. It had been awkward and rushed, Thor obviously wanting the conversation to be over and done with. That information had been stored away for later reference, of course, as was the odd reaction, but he hadn't given it much thought lately.

Not much had been gleaned from Thor anyway, not much more than what Loki had just told him, at any rate.

"I thought you were Æsir," the inventor starts slowly, because even he can asses a situation every once in a blue moon.

A hollow laugh is the first answer that he receives, followed by a sentence said in such a self-deprecating tone that it makes him cringe. "So did I," and he waits for more, but he doesn't receive anything else.

After a few moments of this rather awkward silence, Tony decides that enough is enough. The room is starting to blur, and now he's valiantly fighting back a yawn. This is starting to irritate him, and he's sure that at any moment now Loki will pass out.

Since Tony has had the (dis)pleasure of carrying Loki before, he knows exactly how heavy the other man-frost giant-god-thing really is, and he would rather not go through that experience again. It had even been a strain on the suit, which was a feat in of itself. If the Norse deity's body decided that it would be a good idea to nosedive into Tony's carpet, then there wouldn't be much he could do until he woke up. Which, at that point, Loki would blame him for it and make him pay for being in such a _lowly _position. Because Loki was a priss like that.

"Get into bed already, I'm tired." He deliberately says that _he's _tired, although it's pretty obvious to both of them who really is in need of some serious shut-eye. If he presents it as being his idea, and due to his _own_ shortcomings, then Loki usually goes along with it. Usually, it's the best plan of attack when dealing with a stubborn and strong-willed god (or maybe it's just a Loki thing).

Predictably, it works, and the black-haired man makes his way over to the side of the bed, muttering about how weak and fragile mortals are these days, nothing like those hardy Vikings.

That pulls a laugh out of Tony, because he knows that that particular line really comes from Tony telling him things about the role his world had on Midgard, and not any real interest in the people who worshipped him and his brethren (not brethren?). Loki would have probably thought them quite uncivilized, anyways.

The armors and leathers that Loki wears religiously are damaged and slightly bloody, and it clicks into place why Loki looks so ready to need a life supply of caffeine-he's been fighting somebody. Who, Tony doesn't know, and he doesn't particularly care. Who Loki pisses off really isn't any of his concern. (He makes a note to ask JARVIS about Loki's health, after the god is asleep, though)

Just short of climbing into the bed the trickster stops, glancing warily down at Tony and the sheets. Innocently Tony pulls down the half that Loki should be crawling into right about now, but the other man is still rooted to his spot.

"You know, as much as I love admiring you, I really would rather go to sleep now. I can ogle you tomorrow, I'm sure." And oh, that really _is _on Tony's to-do list, because his lover's body is exquisite, especially in his current form (but really any form, to be honest), and he could spend all day studying and tracing those tantalizing lines, biting along the long slope of that blue neck, wondering at the black fingernails and sharp teeth.

But, most of all, what is really the most noticeable about this form is the uncertainty that Loki holds within his frame. His pores just ooze insecurity and doubt, and he seems to be ready to flinch away at a moment's notice. For a moment his heart seems to lurch, although later he'll deny it and just call it a flutter of his arc-reactor. Of course, he would profusely swear that the sudden surge of tenderness he had just experienced was from the burrito that he had eaten earlier that day.

Scarlet eyes snap into focus on him once again, and gods help him, but he almost moans. If he didn't know Loki was so tired he would mistake the quick glance for that of longing.

"Anthony, I would rather not." Okay, the superhero possessed some serious self restraint, proven by the fact that he didn't roll his eyes and call him out on his bullshit. For being the Lord of Lies and all that, Loki wasn't really doing a very good job of being convincing. He had sounded weary and unsure, which had made for a horrible untruth. It was actually kind of pathetic, and if Tony were crueler he might have laughed in his face.

As it was, the genius snorted in contempt.

"I see, and that's why you're still here," Dammit, he knows he shouldn't have said that, he _knows. _Those eyes narrow, and his cheeks turn…black? Is he blushing? Is "Jotun" blood black?

The man pushes his observations aside when he sees the beginning of his fury though, and he knows that Loki is about to teleport away to wherever it is he stays. It's such a Loki thing to do, to run away, and he's seen him do it more than once. God, he can be such an idiot sometimes, Tony can. If only he could close his godamn-

Except, Loki doesn't. He's still just standing there, his fingers (probably not even aware of the action) clenching and smoothing the comforter in intervals. His face is still a mask of pure loathing, but he has not made any moves yet to pull a disappearing act. Huh, maybe Loki was more tired than he had originally thought.

Leaning over, Tony reaches out his hands and covers Loki's with his own. It's stupid and reckless and he'll probably wind up hexed halfway across the globe, but he really doesn't care at the moment. Loki needs to sleep off whatever the hell is wrong with him, and Tony is really starting to crash after being awake for three days straight.

Although the taller flinches, he doesn't move to pull away, which Tony guesses he'll count as a small victory, all things considered. The current circumstances make him think of petting a dangerous animal, just a little bit of knowing and a whole lot of guesswork, just as likely to bite your hand as to accept you.

"Get in," It's almost a whisper, and in all honesty, he's kind of embarrassed with how reverent he sounds. Picking up the long-fingered hands of his (his what, he doesn't even know anymore), he runs his thumbs along the knuckles and tries to pay the cold of them no mind. It hurts a little, to be honest, and he makes a mental note to tell JARVIS to turn up the heat a little, especially if he's going to be sleeping next to this popsicle.

A tug, not too hard, but not too gentle either, apparently convinces him enough to climb onto the bed, although he's perched up on his knees and still looking wary.

After a few more minutes of coaxing he's finally on his back, stiff and unmoving. The only thing that gives away his current vulnerability is way he's clutching his human's hand like a lifeline, shoving indents of his nails into the sun-kissed flesh.

Snorting almost fondly, Tony scoots over the last few inches because he knows that Loki won't-his pride rules him too much to allow him to do so.

Rather like an octopus he wraps around the Liesmith, fighting off the shivers that accompany such a foolhardy move. As soon as Loki is asleep he's getting JARVIS to turn the motherfucking heat up.

He barely contains a yelp when what feels like tiny blocks of ice brush up against his leg, and he feels a huff of cold breath ruffle his hair, and finally, _finally_, the rigidness of Loki's body starts to melt away.

"Go to sleep Stark, since you're so tired," He says after a few moments, untangling one of his blue (fucking _blue_) from the inventor's, opting to instead run them up and down his arm in a soothing manner. They both decide to ignore the gooseflesh that is springing up from the simple action.

Tony's answer is a nip to Loki's neck.


End file.
